


Tired

by 796116311389, Synesthesia_Demon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Fingering, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Spelling should be mostly ok though, and its ridiculously funny, but hey its porn, hella unbetaed, it's also a game, like I didn't even go in and reitalicize things, slight crack, sorry if it's a bit contradictory, two writers, we were so tired when we wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 10:13:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/796116311389/pseuds/796116311389, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synesthesia_Demon/pseuds/Synesthesia_Demon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's cold and early and Sherlock and John have sex. Bam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tired

**Author's Note:**

> So, Syn and I played a game. We had to each pick five things within eyesight and then incorporate each other's items into the fic. Which leads to the fic having slightly random wtf moments as we try to shove things in. *ahem*
> 
> Syn’s five items: Computer mouse, scarf, DVDs, ice water, and notebook 
> 
> 79’s five items: Lava Lamp, mirror, boombox, butterfly wings, and frisbee

Sherlock wrapped his scarf tighter around his throat as he threw another log onto the fire. The flat had been exceptionally cold when he woke up that morning. Immediately he had on two dressing gowns and his scarf. He rubbed his hands together and looked towards the kitchen. It was his fault, so really, he couldn’t complain, but he just had to leave the kitchen window open last night. His most recent experiment demanded a constant chill breeze and while the same effect could be achieved with a fan blowing over ice water, it would have been too tedious to have to keep refreshing the water.

He threw himself languidly into his chair. The sun wasn’t quite risen yet, the grey morning fog still laid close to the ground and it created a surreal and eerie feeling, though he wasn’t one to normally be frightened by such things. 

No, there were more frightening things.

Like an army doctor of short stature and an occasional psychosomatic limp. 

John hated a cold flat and could get rather irate when Sherlock left the windows open. Sherlock frowned to himself and sat quietly, patiently waiting for John to wake up and for the flat to heat up, fervently hoping the latter occurred before the former.))

The footsteps he heard ten minutes later were John’s. John had woken up irritated and chilly in nothing but his pants, as he had expected it to be warmer. He grabbed for the nearest article of clothing, yesterday’s jumper, and struggled into it with fumbling, freezing fingers. He stumbled into the loo, wanting nothing but to piss and get back into bed, when he saw it.

“Sherlock!” he roared, making the window rattle from the furious power.

The door flew open and Sherlock raced in. “What, what’s the problem? Are you alright?”

“Sherlock Holmes,” he seethed, “Why the bloody hell is there frost on the mirror?” He pointed at the ice that rimed the edges of the mirror. “Now I know I shut all the windows last night. I know I did and I slept in my pants because I knew it would be warm. And yet here I am!” he cried, throwing his arms up in frustration, “Wearing yesterday’s jumper because for some reason there is frost on the mirror and I am certain that it is your fault!”

Sherlock slumped. “Yes. I...it was for an experiment.”

John huffed out a single laugh. “Unbelievable. You couldn’t have warned me?”

“I didn’t know until long after you’d gone to sleep.”

“Unbelievable. Bloody unbelievable.” He made to push past Sherlock and climb back into his cold sheets, jumper included. Sherlock grabbed his arm.

“I’ve put a fire on. You should come and warm yourself. Don’t want to catch a chill.” He leaned close and pecked John on the cheek. “And you look adorable in that jumper and your pants.”

John blushed and tugged at his hem to lower it over his pants. He muttered something about him being a “beanpole” before making his way to the front room.)) 

John sat in his chair close to the fire and sighed. 

Sherlock sat in his own chair across from him and watched as the heat suffused through John’s body. 

“All better?”

John looked at Sherlock, “A bit, but could you toss me a blanket?”

Sherlock reached around and pulled the blanket off the back of his chair and tossed it to John. John wrapped himself up and closed his eyes. 

Sherlock watched him in companionable silence for a few minutes. John looked so much younger when he slept, as if he had never gone to war and had never been shot. Though, no bullet, meant no being invalided back, meant no meeting Sherlock. He scowled at the thought. 

He watched John’s breathing slow, the smaller man drifting off to sleep. Apparently, he wasn’t ready to get up just yet. Sherlock reached to the small table beside him and picked up one of his many notebooks and started to review some previous experiments. 

Sherlock read by the fire for nearly half an hour, the sound of the fire crackling the only noise in the flat, when he heard a small sound. He looked up jarred out of his reading by the peculiar noise. That’s when it happened again and with sudden clarity Sherlock realized the sound had come from John.)) 

John shifted under the blanket. He wanted to dance with the ginger biscuit birds without accidentally setting fire to Sherlock’s robe; Sherlock might kill him if he did that. But the ginger biscuit birds would fly a little too high. He shook his fist at them and stormed off down Baker Street. One of the birds followed him and landed on his shoulder. John found himself in a cafe and ordered some tea. He proceeded to dunk the biscuit bird into his tea, and when he went to take a bite it suddenly had Moriarty’s face. With a shout of, “You bloody bird!” he tossed it across the shop. He ran out. As he stepped out he saw Sherlock across the road. He waved to John, gestured to him to follow, but John couldn’t get across the street. So out of the pocket in his pants (his pants had pockets, that was a new thing) he procured a bright red frisbee and tossed it across to Sherlock. Immediately traffic stopped and John raced across, while Sherlock cried out “John! John! John!...”

“John?”

He started, sitting up and blinking in confusion. “I’m not asleep!” he slurred.

“Of course not. Because you always shout at birds you can’t hear or see.”

He pulled the blanket tighter around him. “Shut up,” he grumbled.

“You know, you can always go back to sleep,” remarked Sherlock, “as long as you don’t chatter away. Breaks my concentration.”

John muttered something about him being an “arrogant sod” and scooted back to lean against the sofa. 

After a few minutes of silence, he turned to Sherlock and asked, “What was this experiment about, then? Why did you have to freeze out the flat?”))

“I didn’t have to freeze out the flat, John.” Sherlock sighed.

John was too tired for semantics, “You know what I meant.”

“It’s to do with that ‘red faced man’ case from last week. The victim showed signs of being exposed to a constant breeze of cold air. The skin was windburned, dry and chapped, and red, yet if you recall, he had been found in his home alone, all the windows closed and the heat on. According to his girlfriend, he had been home all weekend with the flu. So, my experiment was to prove the scenario, wherein she killed him, or he died naturally, though I doubt the latter, and tried to cover up his death by soaking the body and attempting to have the body freeze by leaving the windows open. In this weather it would be possible, I think, but still, had to check. I thought about using a fan, but that would’ve been tedious. Better things to do.” Sherlock stared into the fire, lost in thought. He went silent and just stared. John yawned and snuggled into the blanket more. Sherlock came back and looked at John contemplatively. 

“Want to watch...some...DVDs?” Sherlock’s mouth said DVDs like it was a foreign word. He stared at John questioningly.))

John nodded and stood up, sifting through a small bin of DVD cases. 

“‘The Butterfly Effect’?” asked John, holding up the case. The holographic butterfly wings shimmered with the slight shake of his hands. 

“Dull,” muttered Sherlock, “I knew what had happened the moment that flop of an actor showed himself on the screen.”

John rolled his eyes and grabbed another. “‘Labyrinth’?”

Sherlock sneered, “Much as I know you’d love to drool over the bulge in David Bowie’s tights, I’d prefer not to hear the cooing of that annoying brat or the whining of his more-annoying sister.”

John blushed and muttered something about him being a “fussy prat”. “‘Citizen Kane’?”

“Oh for god’s sake, John, can you be less imaginative?”

“‘The Grudge’?”

“Not interested.”

John shoved the bin aside and shook his head. Then, after a moment, he said, “You know, we could always shag.”

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t think I’ve heard of that one.”

“Shut up,” he replied, standing to spread the blanket in front of the fire. “Get over here, you adorable pain in the arse.”

John spread himself out to allow Sherlock to clamber over him, all legs and arms. He wrapped his arms around his back and brought him down for a slow, devastatingly heated kiss. They rolled onto their sides and John snuggled in close, slipping his hand under both Sherlock’s dressing gowns to stroke the hard warmth of his chest, to trail his fingers down his long back, and to grab hold of his very squeezable arse. He tugged at the ties of the gowns and Sherlock shrugged them off, shivering from the lingering chill in the morning air. Clothes were removed, kisses grew more heated, and soon they were both moaning into each other’s mouths. When it got particularly noisy, John pulled back. Sherlock gave him a bewildered stare.

“I don’t particularly want Mrs. Hudson to hear us...again,” he admitted sheepishly. 

“Well, perhaps you should have thought of that before you decided to stick your tongue down my throat.” Sherlock leaned in again but John stopped him.

“Hold on, I’ve got an idea.”

John searched through his closet for a moment before pulling out an old boombox and a small bin of cassette tapes. He flicked through them before holding up one triumphantly. “Aha! My sex tape!”

“Your...sex tape?” Sherlock’s eyes widened.

“Yes,” he replied, sliding it into the player. “I made a mix to play when I was having sex, so my parents wouldn’t know and my roommates would know to keep out for a time.”))

John shut the cassette into the boombox and with a satisfying click pressed the play button. He turned the round black volume knob and for a moment all that could be heard was a quiet, pulsing, shh sound as the tape started to run. 

Then the music started. 

Keep on whispering in my ear  
Tell me all the things that I wanna hear  
'Cause it's true  
That's what I like about you!

Sherlock looked at John, who had started to bob his head a little at the nostalgia of his old music, and smiled. He didn’t know what song it was, but after this moment he would forever associate it with John, probably do it for the whole tape.

John turned the music up a bit, loud enough to cover up all but the loudest screaming, but still quiet enough not to inadvertently wake anyone still sleeping. He then sauntered back over to where Sherlock laid on the floor. He stepped over Sherlock’s hips and then came down gently straddling him. 

Sherlock enjoyed the comfortable weight of John on top of him letting his hands wander idly up and down John’s thighs. 

“Well, I’m feeling a bit chilled again after getting up.” John leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss into the corner of Sherlock’s mouth. 

Sherlock smirked.

“I think I can help with that.” Sherlock grabbed the sides of John’s face a drew him into a kiss. His nipped and sucked lightly at John’s lower lip, working them swollen and puffy. 

John worked his tongue into Sherlock’s mouth, his tongue swirling around in the warm, silky heat of the detective’s mouth. Sherlock let out a moan and John matched him.

The kissed languidly like that until John let one of his hands wander down Sherlock’s chest, over his abs, and down to the band of his pants. Sherlock inhaled sharply, feeling a tingling pleasure at having John so close to his cock. 

John chuckled into their kiss, “You like that, eh?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and gave a perfunctory thrust of his hips. He allowed his hands to move down to John’s shoulders and he slowly stroked John’s arms. John began kissing down the side of Sherlock’s face, kissing down to the crook of his neck. Sherlock’s eyes widened as John nipped and licked at the sensitive spot. He groaned, equal parts frustration and pleasure in the sound. 

John seemed to get the idea though. He removed his fingers from the band of Sherlock’s pants and began palming Sherlock’s erection through them. He let his hand wander lower and cup Sherlock’s balls. Sherlock felt a zing of arousal course through him and settle right in his groin, his cock growing impossibly harder. 

John moved his hand back up to Sherlock’s bulge, which had begun to leak pre-ejaculate, and John worked his finger over that spot, rubbing the slit at the head of Sherlock’s cock, causing him to hiss in pleasure. 

Suddenly, John pulled down Sherlock’s pants and gave him a good long stroke whilst simultaneously biting with a bit of force onto his neck. Sherlock arched into John’s touch surprised and pleased by the love bite.)) 

“Oh, John, you’re brilliant,” he gasped.

John rolled the tip of his cock in his fingers, relishing in the little whimpers that he could procure from the detective. “Why yes, yes I am. Want me to show you just how brilliant?”

“God yes.”

John pulled Sherlock’s legs over his shoulders and nuzzled in between his thighs. He licked a long stripe from under his balls to the tip of his twitching cock. He wiggled his tongue, making Sherlock’s prick move from side to side. Sherlock whimpered and spread his knees further. John sucked on the spot beneath Sherlock’s balls and he couldn’t hold back a hoarse moan. John licked his way back up. 

“Oh yeah, that’s it, louder,” he murmured, swirling his tongue over the tip of his cock. “Mmm, I want to make you scream, Sherlock.” His hands grabbed Sherlock’s hip and pulled him closer. His tongue wiggled playfully, zig-zagging down his shaft and sliding in between his cheeks. Sherlock bit his lip from crying out from the heady pleasure, but John squeezed his arse. “Louder,” he said, muffled from between his legs. He nipped at Sherlock, and he yelped. “Mmmm, yes!” John’s fingers stroked along his hole and teased a fingertip just barely inside. 

“Ohhhhh oh please, oh please,” he begged, spreading his legs even further and letting them drop to the floor. 

“Oh I will, Sherlock, I will. I know you’ve got some luuuube in here somewhere.” He drew out the “lube” to tease him. “Where are you hiiiiiding it, Sherlock?” He circled his cock and stroked it slowly, tauntingly. Sherlock thrust into his hand, and John held still as Sherlock sought to pleasure himself further, and when he was getting close, he loosened his grip. Sherlock groaned, dismayed at the disappearance of the delicious friction. “Hmmm? Where is it?”

“Unngh...side table...drawer underneath...lube...condoms...”

“Verrrry good, Sherlock,” John grinned and strode over. He pulled out the bottle, then laughed. “Oh that’s adorable!” He turned to Sherlock, who was blushing and glancing away. “It looks like a little lava lamp!” He chuckled and added, “I bet if I lubed you up I could slide it in you and use it as a plug.” Sherlock turned scarlet and his eyebrows shot up. Apparently the idea appealed to him as well. John would have to remember that.))

Sherlock watched as John approached him, squirting the lube into his hand. John dropped the bottle within reach, then followed suit, dropping between the ‘v’ of Sherlock’s legs. He reached down with his lube slicked hand and gave Sherlock’s prick a good, long stroke. He reached the base, went further to cradle his balls, before his hand finally found its way to the cleft of Sherlock’s arse. Sherlock shuddered under John’s gentle touch, desperate for more.

“Please, John. Please.” Sherlock heard himself beg, no, plead. He marveled at that for a moment. His whole life spent avoiding personal interactions and here was John making him beg for intimacy. For his touch.

John chuckled low, his eyes meeting Sherlock’s, blown wide with lust for him. His eyes roamed down Sherlock’s body until they reached his groin where he stared at Sherlock’s erection with a look that could only be described as hunger. Sherlock moaned low with the heady thought of John just so eager for him, dominating him, taking control. 

John slipped his fingers between Sherlock’s cheeks and brushed lightly against his hole. Sherlock gave a little jump, a loud groan escaping his lips. He was so fucking aroused he might just come right there. 

John just smiled.

“Turn over, now.” John’s voice was pitched lower and it set off sparks low in Sherlock’s body. He felt his cock give a twitch and he flipped his body over, his arse thrust back towards John. 

John pushed a single finger into Sherlock, causing Sherlock to growl and push back again. 

“Two, now.”

There was a loud smack as John swatted his butt with his free hand, making him yelp. 

“Don’t be cheeky.”

The pun was not lost on Sherlock. He reached forward to the first thing he could grab and tossed it over his shoulder at John. He felt John dodge. There was a loud thud as it hit the wall and then the sound of shattering.

“Jesus, Sherlock, I just bought that computer mouse.” Despite his words, John’s tone was all affection.))

“I’ll replace it,” he hissed, pushing against him. “John, please, now!” 

John sighed loudly. “You are so impatient, Sherlock.” But he was grinning when Sherlock glanced back at him, a desperate look in his eyes. John held his gaze as he pushed himself into Sherlock, moaning loudly and deliberately. Sherlock’s eyes fluttered and his mouth flew open, and he turned his head and bent it towards the floor. John reached beneath him and took hold of his leaking cock, and tugged. Sherlock bucked against him and cried out. John braced his other hand on his back and shoved him down, tilting his hips up at such an angle so he could pound into Sherlock. An overwhelmingly welcome punishment, he thought, for having to wake up freezing, for Sherlock smashing his mouse, and for being an impatient tease. With that in mind he slammed into him again, his balls tapping against him, making Sherlock scream from the pleasure. John squeezed his cock, stroking up and down vigorously, determined to bring Sherlock off as fast as humanly possible, to overwhelm him with pleasure. 

Sherlock’s whimpers and keening cries turned into a booming “Oh FUCK OH FUCK OH JOHN YES OH OH OH!” as John shoved him over the edge. Sherlock let loose with a loud, drawn out scream of “JOOOOOOH-OH-OHN!” and tossed his head back as he came, spraying his belly, John’s hand, and the sheets beneath him. He collapsed, and John wrapped his arms around his hips and held him up as he kept at it. Sherlock was blissed out and getting hit over and over with aftershocks, and he moaned out yes-es as John finally finished as well. The two of them fell forward on the sheets, John still inside Sherlock, and promptly fell asleep in front of the fire. 

They woke to the sound of Mrs. Hudson screaming in fright and running out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! We hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Like what you read here? Then follow us on Tumblr!  
> http://synesthesiademon.tumblr.com/ is synesthesia's account and she posts some really wonderful smut every Friday for Penis Friday. I really can't do her enough justice describing her blog, so just go follow her! She's awesome!
> 
> http://quailisthestatebird.tumblr.com/ is my account and I blog Sherlock, Dr. Who, Benedict Cumberbatch and Science everyday and all day (and one of these days I'll get around to actually making posts of my own instead of reblogging all the time, lol)


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